


Always Ready

by amelia



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Sex, Shameless Smut, Showers, Smut, Stopwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia/pseuds/amelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One stopwatch, one naked Ianto, and Owen about to pick Jack up in just 10 minutes... so what's the Captain to do? Well, Ianto, of course, right on schedule. Posted today because some Mondays need more PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Ready

Ianto’s hair was still dripping as he stepped out of the shower. He expected Jack to be waiting impatiently for his turn, but instead the Captain was fully dressed and pulling on his coat. 

Jack looked at him, eyes raking over Ianto's chest and the white terrycloth at his waist. His gaze was like a caress, and Ianto shivered in the cool air. “What is it?” 

“Owen called.” Jack was reaching for his gun. “Weevil hunting. Want to come?”

Ianto dropped the towel on a chair. “We had other plans. Different kind of hunting?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Jack agreed. “If we’re quick, we can come back and-–"

“We could now.” Ianto stepped forward, hopeful, lifting the gun holster out of Jack’s hand before he could strap it on. 

Jack exhaled a laugh and tried to protest, with equal measure interest and exasperation. “Ianto, he’s picking me up in 10 minutes.” 

“And we could be ready to leave in eight,” Ianto assured him, setting the gun down on the table, but keeping his body close to the Captain’s.

“Is that a challenge?” Jack reached for Ianto’s waist, his face flushed, intrigued. 

Ianto grabbed his stopwatch from the table and started it ticking. “I’d say so, sir.” He pulled out Jack’s shirt and stroked a line with his fingers along his skin, at the edge of his trousers. Jack loved that touch, felt it tickle, and shivered. 

“We could try for a record?” Jack’s breath was hot on Ianto’s cheek as he rubbed his broad palms down Ianto’s shoulders. 

Wasting no time, Ianto reached further down, fondling and unbuttoning him. “Thirty-two seconds? Can't beat that now," he observed. "This time, I’d say, five minutes?”

“Huh.” Jack jaw had dropped, his eyelids drowsy, and he thrust his hips forward into Ianto’s touch. His hands worked around Ianto’s lower back, pulling him closer. 

Jack’s palms were hot and inviting against Ianto’s damp skin, but the greatcoat scratched Ianto's shoulders as he pressed within its folds. Jack laughed, one hand cupping Ianto’s neck and dragging him into a kiss. The stopwatch ticked away the moments, as Jack sucked Ianto’s tongue into his mouth, and Ianto worked his hand further down the Captain’s pants. 

One-minute-thirty seconds in, Jack’s broad hands gripped Ianto’s hips and pushed him backwards. In tandem, they took halting, clumsy steps to the bed, where Ianto let himself fall backwards. His calves scraped against the iron footboard. Jack was climbing over him, licking long stripes up his chest. Ianto groaned into the air. But Jack had the upper hand now, hovering above. Tangling their legs, Ianto toppled Jack on top of him, deposing his advantage, and brought their mouths together again, as they rolled around on the mattress. 

Ianto felt he’d never met anyone like Jack Harkness, who was so comfortable slipping from a confident leader into a clumsy, eager lover. Jack flailed, reaching toward the bedstand, and his face lit in a grin as the lube bottle squeaked open. Cold, creamy fingers spread Ianto open as he lifted his hips. Jack shucked his trousers off, and rubbed himself against Ianto’s thighs. 

Their eyes found each other, Ianto breathed a “Yeah,” and they pushed together. For one second, they stayed there, joined, groaning and adjusting to the shivers running up their spines. Then Jack moved, pulling and pushing in time with the click of the stopwatch. His coat was still a hot blanket around them. 

“I really love that coat,” Ianto managed to say, rubbing his cheek on the scratchy collar. He was gripping his fingers around Jack’s wrists, tracing the wristwatch with his fingers. It was as much a part of Jack as his coat or his mouth.

“I love your stop watch,” Jack answered, pushing down and breathing hot air against Ianto’s cheek. Ianto’s nerves were screaming all the way up to his temples, and he still felt Jack shudder above him. Their eyes locked for a moment, finding the rhythm they knew so well. 

Then in unison, they sped up--two thrusts per click of the watch, like a metronome--until, like an amateur musician, Jack pushed faster and lost the rhythm altogether. It was all raw friction, there was no distinction between in and out, and they were coming in loud, incoherent vowels.

Jack rolled them, clutching Ianto's shoulders, pinning him down. Ianto reached around and rubbed the calluses of his feet on the hair of Jack’s legs. “It was good, yeah?” 

Jack laughed and rolled aside, letting Ianto free to grab the towel from the floor. The terryclotch itched as Ianto wiped it across himself, and then he reached up to wipe off Jack, who hovered above on hands and knees. Jack grinned, grinding into the towel. “Oh yeah.” 

Ianto shook his head, tossed aside the towel and took three long steps across the room for the watch. “Four minutes, forty.”

“We’re not dressed yet.” Jack stood behind him, his trousers half pulled on, with his flies still lowered and his limp-again cock hanging from his pants. 

“Easily fixed,” Ianto looked at him. Jack watched, smug, as Ianto tucked everything back in and zipped up the front of Jack’s trousers, and then turned to find clean clothes of his own. 

Clean jeans and a white T-shirt were all he could find–not quite his Torchwood official attire, but it would have to do. (And better for weevil hunting than the posh suit, anyhow). Jack had donned a shirt and grabbed his coat again, and they were soon headed out the door. “Five minutes thirty, sir,” Ianto noted.

By seven minutes, they were climbing in the SUV. “Impeccable timing,” Owen said from the driver’s seat. “Sorry to interrupt your shower, Ianto, but weevils wait for no man.”

Ianto raked a hand through his still-wet hair as he climbed in the back. “Always ready to go hunting.”

From the front seat, Jack winked at him through the side-mirror.


End file.
